The Slaughter of the Graceful Swan

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  John the mon what shot the Swan  
  Away to the Cape they say heís gone  
  He dardent stop in his native town  
 

For the ghost of the Swan was a hunting him down

 
 

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

 
 

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

 
     
 

He had used to come when the mon was at rest

 
 

And settle hisíself just a top of his breast

 
 

And then with outstretched wings and all

 
 

Right into his face his woe did fall

 
 

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

 
 

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

 
 

Look at the mud on me noble crest

 
 

Look at the bloody blud on me breast

 
 

With a no.6 shot straight through me eyes

 
 

With shattered pinions how can I rise

 
 

Or paddle the limped waters through

 
 

With both legs broken all done by you

 
 

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

 
 

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

 
     
 

Iíll always haunt you in this here room

 
 

And now I am going to pronounce your doom

 
 

You shall never catch trout on the Arrow or Alne

 
 

For me ghost shall gobble up all your spawn

 
 

You shall sit all day without getting a bite

 
 

And the folkís shall all say "Sarves him right"

 
 

You may try him with worms or the grubs of flies

 
 

But no not a blessed fish shall rise

 
 

And when on the banks of the river you roam

 
 

You shall never here nothing but this here moan

 
 

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

 
 

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

 
     
 

The mon woke up in a dreadful fright

 
 

For heíd suffered martyrdom all that night

 
 

And said as he hurriedly put on his clothes

 
 

Iíll finish the job so now here goes

 
 

He smashed his gun stock lock and barrel

 
 

His fly fishing rod broke off at the ferule

 
 

The rest of his tackle though almost new

 
 

Into the blazing fire he threw

 
 

Then off to the river he did fly

 
 

Resolved that very hour to die

 
 

He stuck his hat on a little ridge

 
 

And drowned himself by Oversley bridge

 
 

And that was the end of the beautiful Swan

 
 

And to the naughty Auster mon.

 
 
Reproduced by John Finnemore, Walcote Farm, Walcote.
www.walcotefarm.co.uk